


The Beast Islands

by WonderfullyWanderingAlone



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderfullyWanderingAlone/pseuds/WonderfullyWanderingAlone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two twins are bought and sold into slavery, onto islands that they have never heard of before. Nobody has, and those who are on them, don't come out alive. These islands are kept a secret, four each governed by egotistic, cowardly, and greedy kings.</p><p>Matthew Williams and Alfred F. Jones have to live their life in a place that scares them to death, but yet sometimes things aren't always as bad as they seem. Especially when some of the creatures seem to hold a soft spot for the slaves that they stumble across.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suddenly Slaves

In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, is a group of islands that not one person has roamed. Or at least, the person who has roamed them, never came back out alive. They sat still and serene, four of them side by side, with only a short swim between. Yet so close to each other, each held secrets and climates so different that it seemed magical; and magical it was. The islands usually held peace, the long sunsets that sat upon them all at the same time, was welcomed. All neighbors were held to each other, for if one fell, they would all fall with. It was an unspoken oath between all the islands. But for some reason, as repeated through history, peacefulness can get a bit boring. The islands erupt into sudden wars at times. These wars are usually left for the strongest people to pick up the ruins and people that are left, to try to rebuild. Maybe after a few years of those wars, they will live in peace. But no matter what they do, everything will end in war.

Each of these islands were governed by kingdoms. These kingdoms controlled who was bought, sold; lived, died; who ate and who went hungry. It was unfair, but yet it made the world go 'round. For those who have lived on these islands all of their life, they knew no better way. All they knew was that they needed to understand the rules embarked on them from their birth so that they wouldn’t end up dead.

The first island, which is where our story beings, was made up of mostly trees. The only places bare of the woody area was the ones cleared out by the kingdom. The last island on the left, the kingdom faced the sea. This left it’s back open to targets from the other islands, but yet it also gave them a sort of emergency plan. The leader of this kingdom, was in his all, a coward. If he was going to go into battle, it would be easier to get off the island in a boat when the entrance to the kingdom was facing the water. He didn’t want to die, it was the one thing that made him shake at night.

The Kingdom of the cowardly king was named the Forest-Den. Surrounding it was a forest full of creatures not yet seen by the outside world. Most of the creatures were incredibly deadly. So deadly, in fact, they were feared by all. From the moment you were a small child, you were made to understand never to step foot into the forest least you be eaten or tortured for the fun of it. 

For the slaves that lived on each of these islands, they were not always told of this fate. As was the stories of two twins who found themselves suddenly forced off of their family yacht that had traveled too far out to sea, and into the clutches of the empires sitting on the islands.

On a dirt road, traveled a cart being pulled by two beings that couldn’t be horses. They were too large, too fat, and too tall. Yet they steadily and full-heartedly pulled a caged cart up through the barrens of land, to the outer walls of the Forest-Den. In the cart lay a group of people, four of them not yet old enough to be adults, all passed out on their respective cots.

The first to gain consciousness as the wheel of the cart hit a rough rock, going through the walls of the kingdom, was a teenager with honey colored hair, trimmed nicely with one chunk of hair that stood up defiantly where his hair was parted. His glasses were askew on his nose, the ends of them digging into tanned skin of his  
cheek. The right lens was scratched, blurring his vision as his bright blue eyes opened. His body looked as if it was built to take on anything, muscled, but not fat. It wasn’t bulky, just about right for a growing male.

“Mmmm?” He mumbled softly, his voice scratchy from misuse, and his lips dry from the drugs that had administered to him. 

This mumble, though not loud, woke a japanese boy laying beside him, making the other boy flinch slightly at the unknown sound. His hair was cut into an almost bowl shape, completely black, with bangs that didn’t quit reach his eyes.

“W-” The Japanese boy coughed, rubbing his dry lips, “What?” He breathed out, no louder sound being able to make it’s way past his dry lips.

“Who the hell are you?” The cow-licked boy gasped out, trying to wrench away from the darker haired teen. He was caught in the midst of pulling away, a great pain creating in his neck, as a chain tightened. Connecting them was a metal chain, connected to a ring around their necks. It was obvious they were not to be free.

“Kiku Honda.” The Japanese man said, looking around with calm eyes, “Who are you?”

“Alfred F. Jones. Don’t worry, I’ll figure this out. I’m a hero.” Alfred said, and Kiku looked over at him to make sure he was serious. Alfred’s face was set, no sarcasm or laughter letting in. It could almost be comical, if not for the situation.

“I don’t believe they would let hero’s into slave trade.” Kiku said, rubbing at his neck from where the rung had dug into his marred skin.

“Slaves?” Alfred mumbled, “You’re insane. This is obviously some kind of drug trade or something.”

“I believe they have slaves for that too, but no. I’ve been here for a while. This is a slave trade, on the... Eastern Island I believe from the smell.” Kiku said, ever calm. It was as if his reserver was the only thing that held him together.

“Eastern Island? Dude, you’re loosing me here. I’m on vacation with my parents and my bro-” Alfred broke off, his breath coming in short gasps, “Matthew!”

“Matthew?” Kiku asked, trying to slink a little away from Alfred. He’d seen a lot of people go crazy in these carts. It wasn’t usually a pretty sight for the person beside them.

“Yes! Mattie, where’s my brother? He’s my twin, he looks exactly like me. He was with us!” Alfred turned on his cot, his breathing seizing in panic. He couldn’t care less where they were, as long as his brother was alright. He reached out and grabbed hold of the chain connecting him to Kiku, searching for another. Linked above their heads, was a rung that another chain was connected to. It fell down below their cot, leading to the other prisoners.

“Matthew.” Alfred breathed out, pushing off of his cot, and pulling Kiku onto his own cot in the process, so as to keep his breath.

“Ow! Stop!” Kiku grunted, pulling at the rung with his fingers to try to loosen the strain on his neck.

There was no sound repeated back, except for a relieved mumble from below. Kiku’s curiosity got the better of him, and he peeked his head below, only to tilt it to the side as if he couldn’t quit understand what he was seeing.

Alfred was leaning over a small boy, who looked almost identical to Alfred except for his hair being a bit longer, with a curl sticking out oddly, and his skin being a bit lighter. The oddest thing about him though, was his body was small and thin, too thin to be natural. His chest rose up and down with great gasps, as if he couldn’t quit get enough of the air filling the cart.

“Mattie, dude. You scared me.” Alfred mumbled, reaching out to place a hand over Matthew’s chest, and closing his eyes.

“What are you doing? He’s not connected to you, leave him be.” Kiku said, grabbing ahold of the chain connecting Alred and Kiku, tugging on it harshly.

“I can’t leave him be! He’s my brother, and he’s sick. He...” Alfred shook his head, “He’s just sick.” Alfred grumbled, pulling his hand away from Matthews chest.

“Well if he’s sick than he isn’t going to make it past the first auction. Leave him, okay? I don’t feel like dying this time around.” Kiku grumbled, his eyes flashing. There was only a tiny bit of kindness perpetrating through his expression.

Kiku instantly knew he had said something incredibly wrong, as he looked at the back of Alfred’s shoulders that had suddenly tightened, the cloth stretching dangerously across the broad bones.

“You take that back, or I’ll punch you in the face, Kiku Honda.” Alfred said, suddenly. He still did not turn back to Kiku, instead lifting up Matthews dirty red sweatshirt, and placing his hand over his bare chest to feel his heart beating oddly under his palm. The skin pressed against his hand was too warm, slick with sweat.

“I...” Kiku turned his head away, “I’m not sure what to tell you. I am not lying when I say he will die at the first auction. If he is not able to fight, he is not able to work, and if he is not able to do either of these things; for others of us to live he must die. I would kill him myself but I am connec-” 

Kiku’s voice broke off as he was suddenly slammed backwards, his head snapping back and pain breaking out of his cheek. Alfred had held to his word, punching the calm Japanese man in the face.

“Matthew is not going to die.” Alfred reached down, yanking at the ring connected to Matthew’s neck, trying to figure out what it was connected to. A small teenager on the coat beside Matthew’s let out a groan, sitting up and staring with huge eyes at Alfred and Kiku. His ring was connected to Matthews.

“W-What? What’s going on? Oh my god who are you?” The boy screamed out, his floppy gray hair falling in his face, “Please don’t kill me. I don’t want to be killed.” 

“He’s not going to make it either.” Kiku mumbled, eyeing the other boy with distaste. Maybe it wasn’t Alfred who would loose it this time; no more like this boy.

“Dude, calm down.” Alfred grumbled out, pulling at the chain again. He was trying to break it.

“You’re never going to break it.” Kiku said, “Not without a weapon.” His bare feet touched down on the bottom of the cart beside Alfred, peering down at Matthew.

“Oh god you’ve kidnapped me haven’t you? I didn’t do anything to you! I swear I didn’t! Those drugs that Jim had? Yea those were mine, I’m sorry, I know I’m addicted! I’m getting help!” The young boy rambled out, putting his hands over his head and whimpering.

Alfred turned and raised an eyebrow at the boy, before turning back to Kiku, “How do we get him to shut up then?”

Kiku rubbed his hurt cheek absent-mindedly. Maybe, just maybe, Alfred would be a good companion to keep if he could hit that hard without even hardly trying.

“We could always knock him out, but then we have two unconscious people in the arena.” Kiku mused.

“Arena?” Alfred asked, pulling at the chains with his hands, even though he knew it would do no good to break the chains. It was the only thing he could do at the moment though. Even when the metal dug into his fingers.

“Yeah, like a gladiator match. We’re all paired together with somebody, and we fight. If your partner isn’t able to fight with you, then chances are you’re going to die. Unless you cut off their head to get them unconnected to you.” Kiku’s voice was quiet, almost unnerving with the loss of emotion in it.  
“You’re a creepy dude, aren’t you?” Alfred said, finally letting go of Matthews chains, as he sat down beside Matthew on the small cot, “There’s no way in hell I’m killing anybody... or chopping their head off.”

“Well you’re lucky you’re paired with me then. I can kill, but I need help so suck it up. This isn’t going to be pretty.” Kiku said, going still as the cart finally stopped and a loud cheer met their ears.

The boy on the other cot, who had sat there in fright throughout their whole argument, started blabbering to himself in what Alfred assumed was spanish. He didn’t really know, he hadn’t had the chance to learn it yet. If this didn’t go well, he wouldn’t ever get to learn it.

“What am I going to do?!” The boy suddenly yelled in english once again, looking down at the still form of Matthew. He could almost see his life flash before his eyes, because Matthew made no move to wake up.

“Shut-Up dude! You’re giving me a headache.” Alfred said, “I’m a hero. Don’t worry about it.” Alfred wasn’t sure where his hero complex had suddenly come from. He wasn’t going to question it though. He reached down and pulled up Matthew by his arms, swinging him around so that the limp boy was on his back, Alfred hunched over so he didn’t fall off. Matthew’s breath gently caressed Alfred’s cheek, much too warm, but yet Alfred was glad he was breathing at all. He was glad for the hard thumping of the his twins heart he could feel even through the leather of his jacket he never took off.

“Don’t worry about it?! He just said I’m going to die!” The boy gasped out. He froze, his eyes going as big as a doe’s when the cart door opened, flooding the boys with unwanted light that hurt their eyes.

“Shouldn’t have spoke. Next time, I will refrain from saying anything.” Kiku said, just as calmly as before.

“That may be a good idea.” Alfred mumbled, walking out of the cart, his feet landing with a soft thud sound along with Kiku’s, on the dirt.

Alfred expected to be out in the open, in a forest maybe, from the distinct smell of trees and earth. Instead he found himself inside an opened ceiling arena, where thousands of people stood watching him. Their eyes seemed to bore into him, looking for sort of fighting instinct. Their thoughts weren’t on his life; for he was a slave, and who cared about slaves? Their thoughts were on how well he would survive; or survive at all. If they should put bets on the American boy and Japanese boy.

The room was large, only a bit smaller than a football field. Surrounding each entrance was a pair of figures, dressed in metal. The metal hung from their hips, and shoulders, creating an unbreakable bearer from weapons and shields. Nobody could touch their bodies, and if nobody could touch their bodies, nobody could wound them. 

“Hello, my boys.” A voice called out, making Alfred and Kiku snap their eyes to the man who had spoken. He was tall, his hair balding on the top of his head. He was dressed in lavish robes, falling against his shoulders in beautiful blue rivulets. Several other thuds were heard behind him, as the rest of the people excited the cart, along with the boy from before. He stood beside Alfred, almost trying to hide behind him.

“You all will die. Today, tomorrow, or the day after. We all die, so you shouldn’t be afraid.” The man’s eyes lingered on the boy behind Alfred, “Name?”

“J-James.” James whispered, shaking so bad the chain on him rattled.

“Well, James, you will either die pissing yourself, or with the blood of others on your hands. That is your choice.” The man said, wrinkling his nose, as he peered down at James wet trousers.

Alfred’s own nose wrinkled slightly too, stepping forward slightly so the urine didn’t touch his cowboy boots.

“I am the last nice face you will see. From this moment on, the only friend you have is the one connected to you by the life line in your neck. They are symbolism of your oxygen. Without them you will not win, with them you may.” The man turned on his heel, and with that he left, his blue cloak fluttering around a corner.

“Let Matthew fall.” Kiku said, for the last time trying to warn Alfred, as men started forward, weapons held up in their grips, and murder glinting evenly in their eyes.

“No.” Alfred almost snarled out, bending his knees, and his grip on Matthews’ thighs tightening.


	2. Carnage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit gory; but we'll be seeing some new characters here in the coming chapters.

They say that sometimes time stands still. Alfred was never going to question that statement again, as he stared into the faces of people who wanted to kill him. Murder him, feel his blood splay out across their hands, feel the warmth of his skin cool as death took place.

He felt Kiku stand up beside him, his head arched up and his breathing starting to even out ever so slowly. Alfred’s own body started to calm, glancing around him. Slow motion enveloped him as he twisted to the side when the first axe whizzed past the side of his head. Oh so close, oh so near, and yet it did not reach its mark.

“Get down.” Kiku grumbled, “Watch the chain!” He shouted out instructions, which Alfred did as best as he could, with his unconscious brother on his back; weighing him down.

“I can’t!” Alfred shouted back, trying to duck past another axe, the hilt hitting his shoulder and he grunted.

A sharp kick to his knees sent him falling backwards, Matthew falling away from him and rolling across the ground. Alfred’s eyes snapped up at the glinting of metal in the sunlight above him. His breath panted out, twisting to the side suddenly as another axe was thrust down towards him. It missed, just by an inch, and implanted itself into the ground by Alfred’s shoulders.

“Just like baseball. Just like swinging a bat.” Alfred chanted to himself, reaching over and yanking the axe out of the hard ground, and swinging it upwards. From the angle, the blade caught perfectly under one of the pieces of metal armor, cracking it from the person wearing it. It fell down to the ground on Alfred’s legs, making him grunt.

“Get up! Get up, Alfred, I can’t move!” Kiku shouted out, tugging at the chain connected to his neck roughly, trying to now prevail to move further towards a sword that had been unceremoniously dropped onto the ground.

“Hmmm...” Alfred mumbled, half out of it. The world roared into his ears, cheering and the screams of Kiku confusing him further. The only thing giving him influence now was the picture of Kiku grunting and trying to move across the ground. Alfred’s head tilted to the side sluggishly, seeing Matthew’s body twitch and turn as the young boy started to wake up. Suddenly the weight on Alfred’s legs wasn’t as heavy as he thought when he seen his brother was still alive, and he sat up, swinging the axe up again. It connected with his enemy target, slicing through skin and bone as if it was butter.

“Thank the gods.” Kiku grunted, lunging forward now that there was slack in the chain, his hand gripping onto a sword. He stood up as if that sword was meant to be held in his grip, “Now we can have some fun.”

“This is fun to you?” Alfred said, standing up as well, limping slightly on his left ankle.

“More fun than facing people without weapons.” Kiku said, swinging the sword around in the air dangerously. It made a sharp sound as it cut through the air, and Alfred’s breath rose out in front of him in small clouds of white.

“Can’t argue with that.” Alfred said, stepping towards his brother, making the chain between Kiku and him go taut, “Can we break this thing?”

“If you break it before your partner is dead, you are disqualified.” Kiku said, stepping towards Alfred, “Then we are hanged for breaking the rules.”

“So you’re saying, either way we die?” Alfred grunted, watching as one of the other metal-clad figures started for him, lifting up a huge metal ball with spikes in the air. He started to swing it around, and Alfred seen a smirk flash from underneath the mans metal mask.

“I’m saying if you die, then I’m cutting the chain... which is what you need to do with Matthew.” Kiku said, looking over at a figure laying on the ground beside from where Matthew had fallen.

Alfred’s body snapped taut, eyeing the figure on the ground. He hadn’t even noticed the other boy trying to fight. He hadn’t even noticed the other boy die right beside him.

“I know.” Kiku whispered, stepping up against him; still holding his sword. “The first one is hard to see. The first one always gets you.”

Alfred just shook his head, sudden sadness growing through him. He didn’t know James, didn’t know where he was from or why he was there. But he had spoken to the terrified boy, and that meant he had been affected by him. Alfred’s hand lifted the axe, and he broke clean through Matthew’s chain that connected him to the limp body of James.

No more words were spoken, because they were suddenly assaulted with several more figures rushing at them. Kiku’s sword flashed out, hitting against metal until he found a weak point where somebody hadn’t attached the armor correctly. He flashed his sword in an upper-cut, feeling it slice through something soft, and the sickening sound of wet blood splattering across the floor. Kiku didn’t look at the body that he heard fall. He found it was easier to get past these things if those images didn’t haunt you behind your eyelids as you slept at night.

Alfred was trying to both protect himself, and his awakening brother at the same time. He heard a sluggish murmur from behind him, and his sword clanked down on the top of somebody’s helmet, making them fall back dizzily.

“Hey Mattie, it’d be great if you could get up here.” Alfred shouted out, turning his head to the side to watch Matthew’s eyes blink open, revealing a soft purple.  
“W-Wha’?” Matthew grumbled out, sitting up slowly and rubbing his head. He turned and stared at a person coming at him with an axe and he let out a scream, his heart thumping horribly fast in his chest. His hands instantly rose up above him, natural instincts. Kiku’s sword slide out, knocking the axe away with a horrible grating sound.

“Good Morning.” Kiku said, bowing slightly. There was a soft smile on his face, as he turned back towards the last few stragglers coming at them with their weapons held high. This was what he knew how to do. This was how he had made it so long. You put this sword in his hand, and he could defeat anybody. That was everybody’s mistake putting swords in the arena with him.

Matthew’s huge eyes went up towards Alfred, and he automatically reached into his pocket, putting his glasses back on his face, resting them on his nose. His eyes glazed over slightly, as he struggled to get to his feet, his legs shaking underneath him.

“Al?” Matthew mumbled, still half out of it. He stumbled forward, grabbing ahold of Alfred’s familiar leather coat with shaking and weak fingers. He was used to feeling weak, but never like this. He felt like somebody had injected some sort of horrible sleeplessness into him, making his body ache all over and his chest hurt with every breath he took.

“Hey, bro.” Alfred whispered, watching the metal ball with the spikes get closer. He held up his axe, staring at it sadly. He didn’t know exactly how he was supposed to fight that ball with this. 

“T-Throw it?” Matthew mumbled, watching the ball with narrowed eyes. He assumed he was dreaming. Didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt though.

“How? It’s an axe.” Alfred grumbled, holding onto the wood of the handle so tightly, it creaked underneath his fingers.

“Just think of it like a baseball.” Matthew whispered, leaning forward. His hand reached out for the axe, then fell slightly. He knew e wouldn’t be able to throw it near as far as Alfred at the moment.

“Baseball. Right. Do hero’s throw baseballs?” Alfred spoke to himself, wondering how in the world he was so calm. Maybe Kiku was rubbing off on him. Alfred pulled his arm back, lifted the axe clear in the air. His eyes caught on the chain connected to the metal ball, watching it whizz through the air in a blur.

Once again, the world seemed to slow down for Alfred F. Jones. The chain glinted sharply in the light suddenly, the clouds moving away from the sky above them to let a bright sun peak out. At that exact moment, as the light seemed to blind Alfred through his glasses, he snapped his throwing arm forward. The axe left his grip easily, flipping through the air and cutting the chain just as evenly as it had through the metal earlier.

Matthew’s eyes tried to follow the axe as it flew, but he suddenly grabbed ahold tighter of Alfred’s jacket, his legs giving out as they both fell to the ground at the added weight. The spiked ball flew past their heads, and Alfred let out a huff of air as Matthew’s dead weight fell on him.

“Not totally useless.” Matthew mumbled, pulling away and sitting down on the ground again, rubbing at his cheeks that were still faintly red from sleep.

“Of course not.” Alfred said, flashing Matthew a wide smile. Even in this carnage his bravo showed through. His personality couldn’t be thwarted even in the darkest times.

“Hey!” The man that had threw the ball at them shouted, his empty hands shaking, “Mind having your family reunion sometime else?” He snapped out, reaching out to grab a discarded sword off the ground. Alfred hoped deeply that sword hadn’t belonged to Kiku; but by the tugging on the chain Kiku was still up and kicking. 

“Sorry, I’m not here on your schedule. Actually I don’t want to be here at all. This place doesn’t look like it makes the best hamburgers.” Alfred grumbled out, pulling up his axe.

Matthew leaned back slightly, reaching for another axe that had fallen to the floor. His breathing wheezed out in his panic. Normally he wasn’t this bad. Normally his heart pumped halfway normal, or as normal as it could. But how was he supposed to remain calm in a place like this? His small fingers grasped the handle of small dagger instead, staring at it with wide eyes. That wasn’t going to do much.

“Shut-up, slave.” The man screamed, like thunder screaming from above. He raced forward, the sword held up in front of him in perfect balance.

Alfred’s knees locked down as best as he could, like when he played baseball. He lifted the axe up and swung it around, catching the end of the sword and pushing it back. He instantly let his body go limp, falling back down to the ground ungraciously. He heard more than felt the sword swipe through the air above him, and a lock of his golden hair fell down onto his stomach.

Matthew shuddered at the close call.

“Stupid nightmares.” Matthew grumbled out, standing up and looking the man dead in the eye, much to the others shock.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” He snapped, bringing the sword up again. He was ready to strike.

“I’m Matthew Williams!” Matthew screamed out and chucked the dagger at the mans face. Needless to say it didn’t do much other than create a very long scratch mark across the mans left cheek, making bright red blood flow from the wound.

“You bitch.” The man snarled out, swinging the sword out once again; this time towards the defenseless Canadian.

“You should have learned not to talk to us.” A voice said, calmly beside him. Kiku’s hair drifted slightly in the wind, the black locks pushed behind his ears had come out. His eyes were still calmed, the depths of them almost surrendering to an utter darkness; yet they held a certain kind-hearted warmth that made Matthew trust him.

Matthew’s back hit the ground, laying flat so as to avoid Kiku’s sword that swung out towards the mans wrist. Matthew clenched his purple eyes closed, as he heard the sound of metal grating against bone and the clean ‘shlick’ of the mans hand being cleanly cut off.

Alfred turned his head around, gazing at Kiku who was right beside him, and he stepped in front of Matthew slightly, looking at the man in front of them who let out a scream of pain before Kiku brought his sword up once again and the scream was cut off abruptly.

An abrupt cheer brought the two’s heads up, looking up at the crowd in front of them, in complete silence at what had just happened and what had just went down.

“Very good! Very good! All three of you made it? How wonderful! That means three slaves to sell... imagine the money I can make with that!” The man from before called out, stepping out of a door onto the arena. His eyes were bright, happiness glinting into them. He stepped over James’ body as if it were a bag of potatoes.

“You’re kind of a sick hoser, aren’t you?” Matthew whispered out, his eyes on the man.

The balding mans eyes wandered over to Matthew, this time more amused than anything.

“You better learn how to talk to your superiors, child.” He whispered, crouching down and putting his finger under Matthew’s chin, tilting his head up so that his face was right in front of his, “Because I am who decides what happens to you.”

Matthew’s cheeks flushed slightly at the mans horrid smelling breath and his breathing hitched, as he tried to pull away from the sudden grip on his chin. The man pushed Matthew’s head back roughly, making it snap back. 

“You’ll all be sold at noon.” The man said, this time addressing all three of them. He stood up and reached out, snagging the sword from Kiku’s grip; letting it drop to the floor, “You will each be given a clean pair of clothes, and you will be sold to the highest bidder. Congratulations; you’ve now been deemed fit enough to live.” 

Just like before, the man left with a swish of his cloak. Alfred felt a sudden abrupt hatred for him, that made his hands clench into fists. Doing this, he felt wetness on his fingers and he looked down, staring at the red splatter across his tanned skin.

“Come on.” Kiku mumbled, pulling on the chain, making Alfred stumble dumbly to the door.

“W-Wait.” Matthew stuttered, climbing awkwardly to his feet and trudging forward, only to have his knees give out weakly as he fell to the ground. Loud snickers from the stand above them at this; reminded them that they still had an audience.

Alfred twisted around, trying to find some resolve. He pulled up Matthew’s arm, looping it around his neck, and taking most of his weight. “It’s going to be okay Mattie. It’s going to be okay.” He whispered over and over again, watching Matthew’s chest heave with every breathe.

Matthew didn’t think Alfred was talking to him anymore; more to himself as they left the bloody and dusty arena, dirt sticking to their clothes and digging into any scraps they had gotten on their bodies. Bruises were starting to turn a dark blue, red around the edges, one directly under Kiku’s cheek from his own comrade only hours before.

Matthew couldn’t help but wonder just how okay everything was actually going to be. Especially how they were going to be bought and sold. How they may not even end up together, and the person who had the disadvantage of buying Matthew would soon realize he was anything but well.

The young blonde haired boy did not speak these words to his twin brother, or the black haired boy on his other side, also trying to support him. How do you ruin a moment, that is already so horrible it is unthinkable? They had killed, they were going to hell. But weren’t they already in hell?


End file.
